


the very last inch of us

by hellynz



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Timey stuff, inspired by That Scene in v for vendetta, with a hopeful ending but not rly a happy one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23667217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellynz/pseuds/hellynz
Summary: River spends years in Stormcage. Her only visitor is the Doctor. Him, and a blonde stranger, a fellow inmate, who keeps appearing in the corner of her cell.
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/River Song, The Doctor/River Song, Thirteenth Doctor/River Song
Comments: 69
Kudos: 322





	1. the salt flats

**Author's Note:**

> you know that scene in v for vendetta where evey finds a love letter from a lesbian? that but in space.

_“I know there’s no way I can convince you this is not one of their tricks. But I don’t care. I am me.”  
_

—————

Arriving home is never something she looks forward to. But the drama of it tempts her anyway.

River slams the security panel shut and whirls from it, letting the folds of her skirt flare out. Still smiling despite the end to her travels for now, the Doctor’s voice still ringing in her ears. Or maybe that’s the ringing from the alarm she set off coming back. At least she’s disabled that, finally. For some reason the guards have decided to make that harder to do, as if that will keep her in. All it does is make their lives harder when she returns.

She never sees the guards. Her footsteps are the only ones that click down the hall, shadows in the corners and an undefined length of loneliness ahead of her. But when she heads back to her dark and dreary cell, it is not entirely dark. There is a spot of yellow.

A woman sits in the corner, hunched over herself, arms around her knees. Her shoulders tremble under a thin, light blue jacket. Her head is buried into her knees, and blonde hair spirals around her like a halo, covering her face. If she is crying, River decides immediately to ignore it.

“Well, I’m not one to scoff at a little company,” River says, and the blonde head jerks up. “But since when have I had a roommate?”

Hazel eyes stare up at her, wide and red-rimmed and blinking, mouth agape. The eyes look almost familiar, and River wonders if this is another inmate she’s already seen, has caught a glimpse of. Someone trying to make their own escape, maybe. An escape that’s been put on hold, at least temporarily, because the woman looks like she’s staring at the end of the world, her skin gone sheet white, and River worries that she might topple over.

“I mean, we might be in prison, but you’d think they’d warn us.” She leans back out of the entrance. “You’ve given me a pretty one, at least, but no announcement? No introduction?”

She doesn’t get an answer from the guards, of course. Not that she had been expecting one. But it’s a bit of a show. Her guest is very pretty, and looks a bit in awe; she can’t help preening.

“Well, if we’re going to-” she begins, turning back into her cell.

The woman is gone. The cell is fully dark, once again. The door swings shut behind River with a clank.

“Oh. Must treasure good company while you have it, I suppose,” River breathes. For just a moment, terrible, freezing cold claustrophobia smothers her. Alone in the dark. And then she takes a deep breath, thinks of the Doctor, and sits on her cot.

—————

“-be. I must be going mad…”

River blinks awake, and for a short moment doesn’t realize what is wrong. The ceiling is not the ceiling of her room on the TARDIS. It’s- her cell, because she left the TARDIS just a few moments ago. Or could’ve been hours. Depending on how long she’s slept. She collapsed to her bed the minute she got back, and now-

Oh. Right. The voice.

She turns her head and squints through the dimness. The blonde is standing in the middle of her cell, arm outstretched and fingers reaching, rocking forward.

“What- how the hell did you get back in here?” River says, voice raspy, and the blonde leaps into the air, her whole body jerking as she whirls around to face her. “It’s the middle of- what time is it?”

The woman is short but bigger than she looked, all curled up in the corner. She stands with her legs apart, her hands curled into fists at her sides. Her blue coat swishes around her frame and it’s almost impressive; there’s an air about her, something huge. It makes River sit up straighter.

“Wh- yo- I- huh?” the woman stutters, breaking the stoic illusion she maybe didn’t even know she had going for her. “I-”

“Well?” River asks, clutching the sheet against her chest and feeling childish for it.

“I d- I don’t know what time it is, I don’t-” the blonde says, her voice shaking. And River sees her shoulders are too as she folds her arms in around herself.

River stares, but the abruptly-woken-up anger is fading. The blonde looks confused, like she doesn’t know where she is, and she’s looking at River with that strange sort of desperate reverence. 

“Are you…” she drifts off, glancing around. It’s very dark, herself and the stranger only lit by the glow of a single light in the hall. Stormcage is empty and silent as it ever gets, only the occasional distant clang. No guard marches nearby. “Are you cold?” It’s hot in there, the heat has been on the fritz and River lies under only a thin sheet. There’s still sweat on her forehead.

The blonde is staring at her. Just staring. She opens her mouth like she might speak and then shuts it with an audible clack, her jaw stiffening. Her face is settled into something plain and neutral, but the awe in her eyes has been replaced with misery, flashing bright in the darkness. 

But then she slowly shakes her head. “No.”

She looks like a puppy. River can’t help but feel bad. She sighs, and sits up all the way, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “Well, good. Wouldn’t want a guest to be uncomfortable.”

The blonde’s face twitches, the corners of her mouth curling a little. “Can’t be a guest if I’m not here voluntarily.” She frowns suddenly, and it’s adorable, her forehead wrinkling and her mouth shifting around. “How did you get over there? Where did you go?”

River blinks, and then snorts. “I didn’t go anywhere, love, you’re the one who’s been gone for three days.”

It’s a guess, if she’s honest- time passes strangely in Stormcage, and she knows she’s laid down to sleep at least a few times since she last saw the woman. Whether those were actually nights, and how much time has actually passed- those are different questions.

The blonde’s frown deepens. “I have been? And this is- we’re in your cell?”

Ah. She sits up even straighter, can’t help the thrill of excitement. “We are,” River says. A proper mystery, then. Something to figure out, something to do with her time. “How long has it been for you?”

The woman ignores her. She nods, her arms still folded around herself, her lips pressed together. “Huh. Okay. Sure.” Her gaze wanders up the walls, down over the floor and across River’s meager belongings. Then she leans in, conspiratorial, still not looking her in the eyes. “Are you real?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. She is trembling all over, still.

River pauses, and then shrugs, nodding. “I certainly hope so.”

The woman frowns and looks at her, very briefly, her eyes flickering. “No, I mean- are you, like the thing with…” She trails off, one hand fluttering through the air and gesturing at nothing. “Hmm.”

“I’m going to need a few more details, my friend,” River says.

But the woman shakes her head, steps back. “If you are real, I shouldn’t say it.”

“Can you at least explain to me how you got in here?”

The blonde’s eyes crinkle at the edges, and her mouth twitches, but it is not quite a smile. “Well, not sure myself. Was teleported in. You weren’t here, though.”

River blinks. “I wasn’t-”

“This is my cell,” the blonde says, “this is where they’re keeping me, and I’ve finally lost my mind. You must be a hallucination.”

River stares, and wants to laugh again, but the woman keeps going, nodding frantically to herself. “Guess that makes sense, I was never much use all by myself, of course I would make you up, lock you in here with me. Selfish, really. Should’ve expected it. Didn’t think I would go mad this quickly, though, usually it takes a lot longer. You know, once I spent-” she starts, whirling and catching River’s eye. But then she freezes, hands in midair, face forced neutral again. “Shouldn’t get into that either. If you’re real.”

“Maybe you’re not real,” River says after a beat. She has nothing else she can say. There’s something so familiar in the air.

The blonde bristles, stands up straighter like she wants to argue. But she’s gone before she can. River doesn’t even blink. She just vanishes.

River sighs, lets her shoulders fall and leans back against the wall. The loneliness is reaching for her again, the claustrophobia. A prison she can escape when she wants but a prison nonetheless, and she will stay here until she rots, or- well, she isn’t sure what comes after. There must be something. The Doctor’s notebook is as long as hers. But there’s always something in his eyes when she mentions her future. She knows her life won’t end happily. How could it, when he looks at her with such tragedy?

Her cell is dark and it’s still hot but she shivers, too. She clings to the mystery like a child to their mother’s leg. 

Over the next weeks the woman is bits and pieces in Rivers life. Flashes of yellow in the corner, a swirling coat, words River can’t quite tell if she really heard. It’s infuriating sometimes, and welcome others, when she has been alone for a long time and her heart aches with it. She tries to start conversations, to ask questions, but the woman is never there for long enough. She mentions it to the Doctor in passing.

“Stick this in a corner, let it run, if you can get her in the same room for more than a few seconds it should have lots to tell us,” he says, pressing the cool metal form into her hand and leaning to kiss her fingers when they close around it. Then he’s gone, whirling down the hall and back to the TARDIS.

River wonders how long the blonde woman has been here. And she wonders if she has anyone who visits her, or at least wants to.

She gets her chance to ask a few days later.

“It’s you again,” comes the soft voice, northern and weary. River, doing push-ups in the center of her cell, almost falls flat on her face.

“Well, nice of you to come round during the daytime for once,” she says, letting irony drip into her words. It’s not entirely unwelcome this time around; she doesn’t mind having someone to talk to. Sometimes River wonders if 90% of her interactions these days involving the Doctor is bad for her overall mental stability. But she’s sure she’ll flash back out of existence in a moment.

The blonde is crumpled in the corner of the room where River had first seen her. Her legs are splayed out in front of her and her head hangs low and loose on her neck. And she doesn’t vanish. River waits a moment, and then another, and then she settles back onto her knees and stares. 

“Sorry. Don’t mean to keep popping in on you like this. Not quite sure what’s going on,” the woman says.

River shrugs. “Neither am I. But you don’t usually stick around for this long.”

The woman nods. It’s a bit too enthusiastic. “You don’t either. For me. From my perspective.” She frowns suddenly, a line appearing between her eyes, and River has to hold back a smile. She’s utterly adorable. It’s a bit frustrating. “What does- how does it work? From your perspective, I mean.”

River shakes her head, shrugging again, raising her hands in the air. “You aren’t here, and then you are. Usually it’s just little flashes, over the past few days."

The woman lowers her eyes, her hair falling to cover her eyes. “Ah. It’s similar. I’m here, alone, and then I’m not alone. You just show up. Longer in between, though, not days. Still not one hundred percent convinced you're real. Getting there, though. Makes a bit more sense. Thought it was just wishful thinking on my part. Didn’t know where I was, yet.”

“Where you were?”

“Stormcage,” the woman says, her voice barely audible. “Didn’t know I was in Stormcage. Makes more sense, now, that you’d be here.”

River blinks, startled. “Do I know you?”

Another long, aching pause. River almost thinks the woman has fallen asleep, before she shakes her head slowly. “No.”

River huffs out a breath. She’s acting caging, won’t look her in the eyes. But, then again, she was just a mystery maybe-ghost who kept appearing in River’s jail cell. Maybe she had a right to withhold some information. 

“What’s your name?” she asks finally.

A long moment passes before the blonde speaks again.

“John.”

River nods. “Nice to meet you, John. Are you from Earth? That’s a very common name around those parts.”

John shifts just a little. River still can’t see her eyes. “No.”

“Where are you from, then?” River asks, though she couldn’t for the life of her explain why. John is not a talker, clearly, and they should be able to live through their strange temporary cohabitation in silence. But something in the woman calls to her. It’s her eyes, she thinks. They flash at her and she expects to be able to read them, expects to be able to tell what each twitch and crinkle on her face means. She doesn’t, but she tries to instinctively. It doesn’t work.

John is looking at her, finally. Her eyes sparkle in the dim lighting. Her mouth twists into a half smirk, perked up at one edge and trembling. “I don’t know.”

River refocuses, giving the hunched figure a better look. She isn’t tense and shaking like she was, the last few times. She is slumped against the wall, and as River watches she struggles to lift her head and fails, letting it fall back against the concrete with a thud. Her eyes slide shut and then open, slowly, and her eyes are still sparkling but her gaze is unfocused. 

“Have they drugged you?” River asks, her voice low.

That wry half-grin melts away. “Yeah.”

River nods. “Well, don’t look so sad about it. Means you’re giving them trouble. Good girl.”

“Means I can’t think straight,” John mutters, raising one hand to tap at her temple. “All fuzzy in here. Can’t try to get out.”

“What exactly are you in here for?” River asks, and any remaining joy in John’s face drops away.

But before she can ask anything else, she hears a familiar wheeze behind her. The TARDIS is materializing, just down the hall. Turning is involuntary; she spins despite herself and despite the increasingly interesting conversation, staring down the hall to watch it appear. Deep blue against the stark gray.

When she turns back to her guest, she’s gone again. But this time River grabs for the scanner propped under her bed, switches it off, and heads for her husband.

“It was short again, but nowhere near as short as it has been. At least three minutes of conversation before she left,” River says. “Got a name, too. John.”

“Human?” the Doctor asks, plucking the device from her hands and turning back towards his console.

“Not from Earth.”

“Doesn’t mean not human,” he says, pulling at wires and syncing the scanning device into the TARDIS. “Humans spread all over the universe, you’re like a virus. A cute one, though. Very fond of that particular virus,” he adds when she glares at him, and he shoots her a smile. It’s not apologetic. But it is charming.

“Just tell me whatever you can,” River says. “I want to know more about her. Or if I can help her.”

“Patience, River, just a few more moments,” he says, waving a hand towards her face and frowning into the controls. Then it beeps, and a monitor lights up, and he grins up at it. She presses to his side, eager. But his face falls. He turns the monitor off and steps quickly away from her, yanking the scanner along with him. “Nothing definitive.”

She backs and stares at him, mouth open. “What do you mean?”

He won’t look at her. He just shrugs, fiddling with the controls in front of him. “Nothing definitive. Couldn’t get a read on her. Oh well!” He spins suddenly and heads for the stairs, loping like a newborn giraffe.

She steps in front of him. “Don’t try to lie to me, sweetie. You’re a terrible liar and I know you too well.”

He wrings his hands together, shrugging. Still won’t quite look at her. “I’m not lying. There wasn’t anything there. It’ll remain a mystery. I’m sure you can manage the frustration.”

She scoffs, and reaches for him when he tries to brush past again. “You are lying, and you’re terrible at it. You would never take one glance at something and declare it a mystery not worth your time. Doctor!” she calls, when he pushes again and keeps heading for the stairs.

“Drop it, River,” he says, and when he finally looks at her she stops, brings her hands back to herself. His eyes have gone very cold. It’s her least favorite version of him, when he looks like that. He scares her, just a little. Not that she would ever admit it.

“But why?” she asks. “What did it say, what did you find?”

“Nothing,” he says, and then he breathes out harsh through his nose and straightens up, his hands fiddling around in the air. “Not- listen. Whoever that woman is, she’s in there for a reason, and she can handle herself. Stay away from her.”

She tries to protest again. But he just keeps his eyes level on her, cold. “Leave it alone. Listen to me, for once.” And then he leaves, stalking down the stairs and under the console. A panel slams open. She pretends not to jump.

River does not listen to him. She uses the TARDIS to scan through images of Stormcage inmates. But the records are encrypted, and what she can crack is old or very far away in the future. And, since it’s not exactly a standard jail facility, it doesn’t have security cameras she can access.

Beyond that, it’s not like “mysterious blonde criminal with sad eyes” will get her very far. She tries anyway, she searches every database she can think of. Nothing. Blank results one after the other, no leads, no intel, nothing at all for her to take and run with.

She thinks she’s sneaky. She thinks that the Doctor does not know that she’s still looking into it. But his eyes stay cold, and he drops her off earlier than they’d planned.

And he does not return for a long time.


	2. i do remember the rain

_"It seems strange that my life should end in such a terrible place._   
_But for three years I had roses – and apologised to no-one."_

_—————_

Next time, it’s the middle of the night. River doesn’t even hear her enter, just wakes herself up from a dream, rolls over, and sees the blonde standing in her corner.

When they make eye contact, John winces. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

River shakes her head through a stretch, sighing, sitting up slowly. “No. But you’ve got to stop popping in on me like this, John, what if I wasn’t decent?”

It earns her a chuckle. “I’m not the one choosing the timing, I promise. I wouldn’t exactly choose to stand here in the dark and listen to you snore, you know.”

River glances up at her, lets her eyes drift over her form. John is standing straight today, doesn’t seem to be drugged. Her eyes are bright and sparkling, and her lips are twisting into a half smile. A long beat passes between them, and then John licks her lips, bringing her arms out from behind her back to clasp in front of her. And she smiles, real and big this time. Something in it flashes at the edges of River’s memory and she can’t help but smile back. “Hello, River. How are you?”

River laughs. “Well, I’m still locked up in here. Still getting a mystery visitor every couple of days.”

John raises her eyebrows. “Is it really only days in between for you?”

“Just about. It’s been a bit longer since the last time. I’ve, ah… got some extracurricular activities that make keeping track hard sometimes,” River says.

“It’s months for me,” John murmurs. River pauses and turns, frowning. The blonde is still gazing at her, eyes softer instead of flashing now.

“Months? How long have you been in here?”

Something behind those hazel eyes shifts and then snaps shut. River almost recoils. It reminds her of her husband, when he thinks hiding something from her is the better option.

John shrugs and shoves up from the wall, beginning a quick pace in front of the only window in the room. “A long time. Not sure exactly. Kept track in the beginning, but then they started drugging me and I lost count. Used to have a much higher tolerance for that sort of thing, when I was younger.”

“You don’t look very old,” River tries, leaning back to rest against the wall.

John snorts. “Looks can be deceiving.”

“That reminds me,” River says. “Are you human?”

“No,” John says. River waits for more information, tilts her head. But John just shrugs. “Not human.”

“Are you going to give me a real answer to a single one of my questions?”

John flinches back as if River has taken a swing at her, her nose wrinkling in irritation. “I am giving you real answers.”

“No, you aren’t, you’re giving me half answers to distract me. I swear, you’re worse than my husband.” And there it was again. Something in those eyes locking and backing away from the surface as River watches.

John shrugs again. It’s less carefree this time. “Sorry. What if you’re a hallucination? Or a spy? Can’t be risking that.”

“And what exactly would someone be spying on you for?”

“Oh, loads of things. I’m a big deal,” John starts, and then her eyes shutter again and she resumes her frantic pacing. “In some parts. I’m quite smart. Maybe you’re trying to steal some of my brain thoughts.”

River snorts. “If you’re such a big deal, then why haven’t you been able to figure out why you’re here?”

John’s nose wrinkles. “I know why I’m here. Well, here as in, in jail. Well-” she pauses and shrugs again, finally looking sheepish. “Okay, you’ve got me. I really don’t know. And I really am sorry. Don’t want to be- disturbing you.”

“Like I said, I don’t mind the company. Besides, you’ve become a good warning sign for- ah!” she says, when the wheezing of the TARDIS echoes down the hall almost on cue. “Now that I really don’t understand,” she says, speaking quickly and turning back to John. “Why do you always show up at the same time as my husband?”

The wall behind the blonde’s eyes cracks open, and for just a moment, River sees a guilt so deep it makes her stomach plunge. But then, as suddenly as always, she is gone.

The Doctor rounds the corner. And with him, all of the anxiety she’d forgotten while John was in the room comes crashing back down on her.

“It’s been awhile, darling,” River says carefully, pressing a gentle smile to her lips. He is smiling at her but his eyes, like Johns’, are a bit closed off, a little wary.

“Sorry about that,” he says, reaching to take her hand and turning her as if they’d been dancing. “Lost track of time.”

“You do that an awful lot for a lord of it,” she says, but she’s already smitten again as he leans over to kiss her forehead. He doesn’t apologize; part of loving the Doctor, at least this version of him, was learning that she may never get a real, direct apology for anything. But he sweeps her away regardless. She can’t even hold it against him.

—————

The Doctor drops her off after the predetermined amount of time. He does not cut it short, and yet River’s heart aches as she heads back for her room. She cannot stand it, being alone in the dark, staring down weeks without him. So she reaches for her journal the second she’s back in her cell. And so she is reading it, for the millionth time, when she hears the little gasp of joy that alerts her to her visitor.

“River,” John murmurs, voice high with delight. And, as is obvious the moment River glances over, high with some very powerful sedatives. She is barely upright, still sitting in that corner that seems to be her favorite spot, her body crumpled in a way that will surely make her very sore the next day, limbs sprawled at awkward angles. Like she’d been tossed to the floor and hadn’t had the ability to sit herself up. “Hello there, beautiful. I really needed to see you today.”

“You look in a right state,” River starts, and it’s true. If John has ever shown up dosed, she certainly is now. Her eyes are only half open even as she stares at River, her gaze drifting lazily up and down her form.

John frowns. It's exceptionally cute, pouty and soft. "Oi. I've had a rough day, is all."

She laughs, loose and breathy. “Yeah, well. Me too. Just got done visiting with my husband.”

“Your husband,” John murmurs, and River smiles and nods, looks away to hide the clench in her chest.

“Don’t get to see him as often as I’d like. Makes the days go by faster, though.”

John makes an odd sound. River glances over, confused and maybe a little alarmed. It sounds like a mix between a whine and a cough.

“I’m sure he’d like to see you more often too,” she says finally.

“Maybe,” River says. For some reason she can feel every unbidden thought she’s ever had rising within her, and she thinks about holding them back. But John’s eyes are wide and sad and staring at her through the dark. “Sometimes I think he visits me only as much as he can stand to be around me.”

John’s mouth falls open and she shifts forward desperately, squirming but unable to sit up. “No- no, that’s not it, I’m sure.”

“How could you possibly know?”

“I just do,” John says, her voice firm. She gives up on struggling reluctantly and flops back again. “I just do.”

River pauses. “Do you have anyone waiting for you, out there?”

The air between them feels heavy and cold. John drops her gaze and stares at the floor, mouth opening and closing. River is about to take it back, to apologize for the intrusion.

But John looks back up. “Yeah, I’ve got a fam. Family. Sort of. Bunch of friends I’m- really close with. In a way.”

“Any visitation rights?” River asks reluctantly, not very hopeful considering where they are, and John’s wry smile gives her all the answer she needs.

“Not for me. Plus, they’re all too far away. Not that that would stop Yaz, but, well. She thinks I’m dead.” River frowns, but John snorts and lets her head fall back, a soft grin spreading on her face. “Yaz would’ve torn this place apart to find me if she could.”

“Is Yaz your wife?”

John freezes and her eyes dart up to meet Rivers. For a moment she stares, mouth fallen open again, and River almost laughs, surprised at how amusing she finds it to strike this random woman dumb. And then John really does laugh. But there is no humor behind it. “No, Yaz isn’t- no. I have a wife, though. But I don’t get to see her very often.”

Something is wrong. John is laughing too much, for a scenario that is not really that funny. The hairs on River’s arm begin to stand up. The laugh is shaky and almost drunk, swinging wildly between pitches, and John has gone even limper against the wall.

“Actually,” John continues, through breathless snorts, “this is more that I’ve seen of her in hundreds of years, can you believe?”

And, slowly, and with a terrible dread, realization starts to rise in River’s mind.

“You always appear just around when my husband show up,” she starts.

“Makes sense,” John murmurs, her eyes fluttering, threatening to close. “TARDIS sends things all wonky. Two of me in the same spot.”

“What do you mean,” River says, but it isn’t really a question. The truth is dawning on her even as she resists it, rejects it entirely for its horror. “What do you mean two of you?”

“Would break some things, being in the same place as past me. Plus, spoilers,” John says, and then chuckles, one hand twitching and her eyes sliding shut. “That drove me absolutely up the wall, when we first met. Spoilers. Infuriating. I’m remembering bits of this now, though. Told you to leave me alone!”

River’s heart goes cold. Her fingertips feel icy, her mouth twitches. “It can’t be,” she breathes. “Oh, my love, it can’t be you. Please don’t be you.”

John - and despite her begging of course it’s him, John Smith, right in front of her all along - tries to lift her head again. Her face is wrinkled with faint regret. “Shouldn’t have said that,” she mutters, her words slurring together.

“That’s why you only show up when my hus-when you’re near.”

“I really-”

“You told me your name, but you never even asked for mine. And you said-” River’s voice breaks and she tightens her hands into fists, grimacing through it. “You said you thought it was wishful thinking, when you saw me. But then it made sense when you realized it was Stormcage.”

“River-” the Doctor tries again, but River does not stop, very fed up with listening and following. She has to force her eyes away, shaking her head.

“You didn’t even question how my husband was visiting me,” she says, starting to laugh a little even as tears burst into her eyes. “You- we’re in a maximum security jail and you didn’t even question for one moment how I could have possibly just been traveling. You know, you are a lot of things, my love, but a good liar is not one of them.”

The Doctor is still slumped against the wall when River’s gaze returns, but she doesn’t look guilty anymore. “Thought maybe I was making you up again,” the Doctor says, and shes smiling wryly now, a little sheepish. River’s heart clenches, wants to shatter, picturing this Doctor alone in the dark, imagining her. Dreaming of her. Wishing she was there.

“How- when are you?” River asks, reaching again for her journal, but the Doctor shakes her head.

“I’m off book. This is-” she trails off, her fuzzy eyes locked on Rivers before dropping to the floor. “I’m past the part of my lives that you are supposed to be in. I’m older than the last time you saw me. In fact, I’m way-” she cringes, screwing her eyes shut and letting her head fall back against the wall with a thud. “Ugh. Sorry. Feel a bit sick.”

“Doctor-” River says, tears flooding her vision. She takes a steadying breath, does not let them fall. “What have they been doing to you?”

The Doctor shakes her head again, her pretty eyes so blown out and hazy that River isn’t sure she can see her anymore. “Just keep… not complying. So they drug me again. More.”

“How long have you been there?”

She isn’t sure she wants to know the answer. She is not sure the Doctor wants to give it, either, by the way her shoulders tense. “A while.”

“Sweetie,” River says, and her voice wobbles again, and the Doctor huffs out a breath that might have been a laugh, might have been a sob. “Please tell me how long they’ve kept you in here.”

“I don’t know for sure,” the Doctor says. “Hard to keep track.” She shifts again, tries to sit up but only manages to slump further down the wall. “I don’t do great alone, ‘specially not this version of me. Makes my head cloudy.”

“Could also be the drugs,” River says, keeping her voice low so that it does not crack. She clings to that kernel of information about this Doctor - she is blonde and she is old and she doesn’t do great alone - and she stores it away in her chest.

The Doctor wrinkles her nose into a grin, laughing silently, and River smiles too, even as tears still threaten behind her eyes. “I’m sorry, I really-”

“Don’t apologize,” River says. “You have nothing to apologize for, you- why are you in here?”

The Doctor stares at her for a moment and then rears back, her eyes going wide. “Oh, River, you would not believe- the Judoon, prancing all around Earth, thinking they’re- thinking they’re just in charge, thinkin’ they can…”

She trails off, her arms held in the air mid gesture until they flop heavily into her lap. She groans again. “Can’t think straight. Too many… too much-”

“It’s okay,” River says. Her fingers are still cold with worry and she longs to go to her, to hold this tiny version of her husband in her arms, but she resists. “It- it will be okay, we just have to come up with a way to get you out of here.”

The Doctor scoffs. “There’s no way. And besides, you should be worried about getting yourself out of here. Ignore me, I’ll be fine.”

“No you won’t. I know you, Doctor, you won’t last in here. You’ve already been here for too long. You don’t deserve to be in here.”

The Doctor’s eyes are still blown and hazy, barely focused on her, but she stares in her direction again. “You don’t deserve to be either.”

“But I’m not, not permanently. You come and take me away, whenever I want. You’re just-” her voice catches again and she frowns, clearing her throat. The Doctor tries to, too. But she ends up coughing, and then she flickers.

River gasps and shoots forward, almost falls off her bed and flat onto her face. Cold terror clenches her heart as she remembers- her husband has just left, and if it’s the weirdness in the time stream caused by the TARDIS bringing this new version to her- “No- Doctor, wait, don’t go-”

The Doctor, the blonde and pretty one, the one drugged out of her mind and collapsed on the floor, smiles at her wearily. “I’ll see you in a bit, my love,” she murmurs. And then she is gone.

————

Time crawls before the Doctor returns. River sits on her cot, knees drawn up to her chest, and stares at the corner where she usually appears. She waits for hours. And then she waits for days.

She cannot ask the current version of her spouse for help. And so she steals instead, gets herself out of the jail and finds a black market dealer nearby. It isn’t very hard, but her heart races the whole time. What if the Doctor was there now, and River was not? What if she was sitting there, alone in the dark, and she was drugged and couldn’t get out of the corner, and River could be comforting her? 

There was no way for her to tell if she has missed a visit, of course, but she still ran into the cell as if she’s being chased. No one was there. She digs into the wall when the guards were not around, shoved just next to the corner where he would sit one day, shorter and imprisoned. It takes awhile, breaks her nails and leaves her fingertips bloody, leaves her neck sore from the way she whips around at every sound. She does it anyway.

“I don’t even know if you’re in the future,” River gasps the moment the Doctor reappears in her room. She’s standing this time, seems like she might have been mid-pacing, hands shoved in her pockets, stumbling in her stride when River speaks. “I don’t even… if you’re in the past then I wasted my time.”

“What?” the Doctor asks, startled, staring at her.

“Vortex manipulator. It’s in the wall behind you,” River says, and the Doctor whirls and crouches to look at the wall, her fingers tracing along where River had chipped and clawed her way into it. “I know you aren’t a fan, and it’s a pretty rudimentary model, but-”

“Oh, River,” the Doctor breathes, and chills run up River’s spine. Her name on a new Doctor’s lips again. “This is brilliant.” She rises, dust and dirt falling from her hands, a vortex manipulator clutched in her hand.

“Oh, thank the stars. You are in the future. Well, that means it’s been there for a few centuries,” River says. “Hopefully it still works.”

The Doctor is already fiddling with it, her nose scrunching up adorably, and River wants to fly across the room and kiss it. “It should, and if it doesn’t I can- ooh!” she sticks her fingers along its edge and twists some wires, and it’s sparking to life, beeping in her hands. River sighs with relief, smiling, and the Doctor looks up at her and positively beams. 

It’s like every positive emotion River has ever felt floods into her system, all at once. The Doctor saved by her; the Doctor, small and kind and smiling and beautiful, and River has rescued her. Her chest aches with it, her cheeks are sore from smiling. She longs to hold her.

"I'm sorry," is all she can manage, forcing her words not to crack.

But the Doctor just frowns. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all."

River sighs and throws her arms out. "But you're- you're here, and you shouldn't be, and it's miserable and I'm sorry, I'm just-"

The Doctor shakes her head. "No, love, don't. _I'm_ sorry."

Silence falls between them for a beat, and then another. This Doctor looks up - because she's _shorter than her_ , River can hardly believe it, laughter threatening to bubble up again in the back of her throat - with deep, dark eyes. Sincere eyes. Eyes that know the truth.

"I forgive you," River says. And it's the truth, too.

She lifts her arm, fingers outstretched, reaching for- something, anything, to caress her cheek, or to hug her, or something, River reaches. But the Doctor steps back.

“We aren’t supposed to meet,” she says. “Us together, ripping open the time stream because past me is about to show up, we shouldn’t touch.”

She’s right. Maddeningly, horrifically, terribly right. River loathes her for it, loathes her stupid rules that hold the universe in place, hates her for sacrificing herself for others over and over and never thinking of what that might do to her wife. Despises the way this body’s eyes sparkle, huge and open and beautiful, new but familiar, and despises the way she wants to spend a thousand years looking into them. She wonders what their life would be, herself and this Doctor. She wonders who this Doctor is. The fact that she will never find out radiates from those eyes, pierces her chest.

“I- I hate you,” River whispers, her eyes hot and blurry.

The Doctor grins again. “No, you don’t.”

A long moment passes between them. River lets her gave wander, taking in every line, every out of place hair, the color of her socks.

“Another time?” River says finally, tears streaming down her cheeks, and she begs him, in the back of her mind, to give her this.

The Doctor’s grin melts into a smile. It is soft and it crinkles her eyes. And this body, small and strong and blonde, gives. “Another time.”

It’s a lie. They both know it. But she says it like she is going to come back.

Then, with a crack and a flash of light, she is gone.

And around the corner comes her husband.

“So!” he shouts, and he’s wearing a stupid hat so she knows they’re going somewhere special. But he doesn’t even get to launch into his preamble before she reaches out and pulls him into a hug, pressing her lips to his cheek and then nuzzling in, sighing.

“What was that for?” he asks, when she leans back and looks up at him, still blinking away tears.

“It wasn’t for you,” River says, stepping back. “It was for her.” She gestures into the dark of the cell. Clears her throat, again, because tears are still maddeningly close to falling from her eyes.

The Doctor pauses and nods, crossing his arms. “Ah. Hmm. So you, uh-”

"I figured it out," River says, shaking her head. “You don’t have to- it’s okay. Just- I might need a minute, is all.”

And she gives herself one, just a moment of regretful stillness, staring into the darkened cell that she knows will no longer be occasionally lit with blonde. River feels the Doctor’s hand hover over her shoulder, and then fall back to his side. She reaches out without looking and takes it.

_——————_

_"But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even though I do not know you, and even though I may not meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you: I love you._   
_With all my heart._   
_I love you."  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u all for your kind words in the last chapter sorry that this is 2 weeks later

**Author's Note:**

> *redacted*
> 
> follow me on tumblr
> 
> TTYL


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